


Heart Lessons

by Rroselavy



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-01
Updated: 2010-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rroselavy/pseuds/Rroselavy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teaching can take many forms; Koumyou attempts to show, not tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kispexi2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kispexi2/gifts).



They are beautiful together, that much Shuuei will allow; in a strange way, they complete each other, like yin and yang, alpha and omega, darkness and light. And, as much as he wants to hate Koumyou Sanzo for it, as envious of Ukoku Sanzo's position as Koumyou's lover as he is--and Shuuei is man enough to admit that he _is_ jealous--he can't find it in himself.

He won't, either, because Koumyou Sanzo deserves better than that.

He's been Shuuei's mentor and friend; he's given him a home--both physical and spiritual--and a purpose in life. Koumyou has challenged him, pushed and prodded him to choose a path, and expects nothing less than Shuuei's success. And more than that, Koumyou has always treated him with respect. But there's one thing Koumyou Sanzo hasn't given him, and it's the one thing Shuuei craves, the one thing he wants more than all that he has received; the one thing he knows he will never have.

Koumyou Sanzo deserves better than _him_, too.

Usually, Koumyou's taste is impeccable, his reasoning unassailable. Shuuei knows him to be an amazing _sensei_\--despite his self-deprecating demeanor--and he is unimpeachable as guardian to his young charge Kouryuu. But what drives Shuuei to distraction is the huge blind spot Koumyou has when it comes to Ukoku Sanzo. Shuuei can't understand it--can't even begin to fathom it--and can only assume that it is driven by a willful disregard for the plain-as-day facts.

Ukoku Sanzo is bad news. He doesn't have a moral fiber in his body.

There is a dark aura that surrounds the heretic sanzo, that seems to absorb all light--it's a sinister shadow on his soul--though even Shuuei isn't immune to his alluring attractiveness. He's worse than any demon who's ever lived.

And he's got Koumyou under a spell; it's the only reasonable explanation.

"Like this?"

"Gods, Koumyou! Please!" Ukoku gasps. In the dim light, Shuuei can only guess what the elder sanzo's hand is doing underneath the folds of younger's robes.

Koumyou chuckles and the mirthful sound dances over Shuuei's skin, setting the downy hair on his forearms to standing. From his vantage point, a window that looks onto a narrow alley between two nondescript temple buildings, he can see them both in profile. Ukoku's back is up against one building's wall. It's late and the temple grounds are hushed; only the crickets are out in the warm evening air.

Crickets, and clandestine lovers.

Shuuei knows he shouldn't be spying, but he can't help himself. He's hard just from their private conversation, never mind his imagination, which fills in the dirtiest images for what darkness and an unfortunately placed limb or lock of hair obscures. He slips his hand inside his robe and palms his length, stifling a moan as he imagines it is Koumyou's hand touching him there.

"I think ... more like this," Koumou's voice is low and muffled against Ukoku's neck.

"Stop teasing me, you bastard!" Ukoku cries out in frustration, then: "No! Don't stop _that_!"

"Ukoku, which is it? You're giving me mixed signals."

Shuuei can almost believe the inflections in Koumyou's voice are genuine concern, but he knows better than that--he's been spying on the pair far too long to be taken by that ruse.

"Blow me," Ukoku hisses, not taken in by Koumyou's false contriteness, either.

"Mm, good idea," Koumyou agrees and drops to his knees before the younger sanzo. The blood racing through Shuuei's veins runs hot and his jealousy crests, breaking over his skin in waves, but he can't tear his eyes away from the pale slice of flesh that is revealed as Koumyou makes quick work of the knot that cinches Ukoku's robe at his waist and pushes the loose folds of fabric behind his angular hip. Ukoku's trousers are soon rumpled around his ankles.

From his position behind a screened window, Shuuei sees them both in profile, observes the eager jut of Ukoku's cock and the way it twitches when Koumyou extends his tongue to lap over the tip before he slowly takes the entire length into his mouth.

"Oh," he whispers in unison with Ukoku's breathy exclamation. Ukoku's head falls back and rests against the wall, exposing the gentle curve of his neck. His eyeglasses catch the faint light and reflect it as his head turns side to side, offering Shuuei the unsettling image of an eyeless face. His arms hang loosely and the soft rustling of Koumyou's robe is nearly drowned out by the crickets' song and the throaty groan that punctuates the quiet evening air. Shuuei drops his gaze to Koumyou's ethereally glowing hair.

"Yes." The _ess_ is drawn out, and then Ukoku's breath hitches.

Shuuei's own hand is keeping time with the bob of Koumyou's head. He imagines what it would feel like to be enveloped in that moist heat, to feel Koumyou's taut lips along his shaft as his dick slides in and out between them. The thought of fucking Koumyou's mouth brings Shuuei's free hand to his; he bites the back of it, the pain dulling the edge off his climax, prolonging its arrival.

He wants to time it just right.

He wonders how far they will go tonight, exposed as they are like this. Though Shuuei has to confess he's never seen them exactly behaving furtively; it's always seemed more akin to seeking out a quiet place where they can enjoy each other without being interrupted.

And that they do.

Ukoku moans softly and another voice--Koumyou's--hums along with it. The cadence curls Shuuei's toes--it's heartbreakingly beautiful and stunningly erotic at the same time, coupled with the visual of Koumyou sucking Ukoku's cock. Shuuei feels a bead of sweat meandering down the side of his face. Ukoku's hand cups Koumyou's cheek and then reaches for his heavy braid. He winds the thick cord around his wrist, binding Koumyou to him.

Shuuei imagines his wrists bound by Koumyou's plait, then he thinks how it would feel coiled around his shaft. A jolt of white heat tingles along his nerves.

"Koumyou!" Ukoku's voice is raw. "Please!" The older man sits back on his heels and raises his head to gaze up at Ukoku's face. "I want you." Ukoku's voice is low and breathy and possessive.

"Do you, now?" Koumyou answers cheekily. Ukoku still has his head fast, but he stands anyway and attacks the younger man, pressing his body against the wall. Ukoku seems to melt into the building as Koumyou ravishes his mouth before suddenly pulling away. This time, Ukoku releases his hold on Koumyou's hair. "Do you think you can handle me?" challenges.

Ukoku snorts.

Koumyou turns to walk away.

"No!" Shuuei whispers. It's too soon.

Koumyou's step hitches as Ukoku grabs his shoulder and pulls him backwards--there's a rustle of rice paper and linens, the clack of wood. In a fluid movement, Ukoku's pushed Koumyou roughly against the wall, effectively switching their positions.

"Ah, now you've got me where you want me." Koumyou's arms bend, his hands reaching up to pull at the loose lapels of Ukoku's robe. The bamboo breastplate rattles. Ukoku clamps his hands down on Koumyou's inner elbows and forces his arms back, pinning them by his sides. They're chest to chest now, and Ukoku crushes their mouths together in an urgent kiss.

"Koumyou, no," Shuuei whispers again. He's appalled that the man he admires would allow that ... that degenerate to ... to ...

 

"You don't like him very much, do you?"

The question hangs in the still morning air. Shuuei turns slowly, very much feeling like a cornered mouse. Koumyou's smile is penetrating, almost predatory.

Shuuei knows instantly who _he_ is. He'd seen him slinking away from Koumyou's porch through the pre-dawn mist when he'd been out meditating in the cool air.

"'He' who?" he bluffs.

Koumyou's smile is steady.

"Ukoku," he clarifies.

Shuuei carefully places the tray he's brought with him on Koumyou's desk. He drops his gaze from the sanzo and looks down at the items--a pot of tea, a bone china cup--and then grimaces at their quaintness and inadequacy. An eternity of tea made by his hand for the master of Kinzan would never mean as much as a glance from that ... that bastard. He turns his back to Koumyou and folds his arms over his chest. Daylight pours into the small office from the open window. Outside, it's blindingly white.

"I don't know what you see in him," he says finally, when the silence has stretched so thin that it threatens to shatter the peaceful façade.

Koumyou makes a non-committal sound, neither pleased nor displeased. It emboldens Shuuei. He turns to face Koumyou again.

"He's always sneaking about, like he has something to hide. Or like he's ashamed." Even he hates how catty that sounds.

Fair eyes pin him against the wall, and Shuuei's reminded how different Koumyou is when he's provoked.

It's like poking a tiger. Shuuei's heart pounds in his chest.

"Mm. I don't think that's what it is at all."

Koumyou stands and rounds his desk. He comes to Shuuei's side and then leans back against it, his hands gripping the ornately carved edge. Shuuei takes a breath to steady himself, then turns to face Koumyou again.

"I don't think he's good enough for you," he adds bitterly. He's fast losing credibility; this he knows. It's only a matter of time before Koumyou calls him on it.

"Mm," Koumyou says agreeably. "You seem so sure about that."

Shuuei brings his hands to his head and grabs fistfuls of his hair.

"Koumyou, don't toy with me!" he pleads. When he drops them and hazards a glance up, Shuuei is shocked by Koumyou's perplexed expression. Now he feels like a butterfly pinned under glass--a curiosity.

"You know, Shuuei, jealousy isn't very becoming at all," Koumyou says after a few moments of pointed silence. His voice is soft and even in its pronouncement, yet it rakes over Shuuei's skin, admonishes him.

"I'm not jealous! Not of _him_!" he says defensively, then shuts his eyes, wishing that he could shut his ears to the desperation that tinges his voice, too. He feels the heat of a blush burning his cheeks.

"Is that so?" Koumyou's voice is measured and without a hint of mirth, the tone meant to be soothing, but probing at the same time. He's being careful and Shuuei doesn't know whether he should be grateful or insulted.

"Koumyou," he whispers. He feels like he is drowning in a sea of unrequited feelings, but Koumyou really can't be blamed for that; he's never breathed a word about them to anyone; he's always imagined they wouldn't be reciprocated. Then he does the unthinkable.

Or does so without thinking.

Either way, when Shuuei comes to his senses, he's trapped Koumyou against the desk, his lips pressed against the older man's. The first thing he notices is how warm they are, and alive, not dry and desiccated like the dead leaves in the courtyard he sweeps--like everything about Kinzan except for the wake left by Koumyou, or the people he graces with his wit, his charm, his presence. And for the briefest second it almost seems as if Koumyou is responding, and Shuuei's heart threatens to burst from its confines. His hands slide over Koumyou's arms, over the strong curve of his shoulders and settle there, thumbs coming to rest on Koumyou's collarbones.

Only, Koumyou isn't responding.

Perhaps it's out of politeness that he hasn't pushed Shuuei away, but he's standing immobile and intractable. Horror overtakes Shuuei and he steps back as if he's been physically struck. Koumyou's lips are pink and glistening from the kiss, but they aren't smiling. He waits expectantly for a moment before his hands release the edge of the desk.

"I see," he says simply, as if a great mystery has been solved. Shuuei backs away further; he wants to apologize, but after that breach in decorum, mere words are woefully inadequate. They get stuck in his throat.

He turns and runs.

The next day he's summoned to Koumyou's office.

Shuuei steps inside the doorway and stands before Koumyou's desk, head bowed like a naughty schoolboy. He sees the tray sitting forlornly on the desk. He hazards a gaze into the tea cup, it's empty--maybe a sign?

He fully expects to be sent packing. He's beaten himself up the entire night about his reprehensible action, his self-loathing only becoming more intense because even so, he can't get out of his mind how good it felt those few seconds, how much more he still craves.

He reaches for the tray.

"I'll take this away," he offers, hoping to delay the inevitable.

Koumyou looks up from the document he's been writing. The characters flow gracefully across the rice paper--neat, elegant, and not overstated.

"Shuuei, sit." Koumyou motions to the straight-back chair against the wall, opposite the desk. Obediently, Shuuei pulls it closer to the desk. He's been brought to face his transgression.

He needs to apologize, and the words finally reach his tongue.

"Koumyou, about--"

"Sh!" The sound is sharp; it crackles the monastic quietude. Sounds float in from the open window--birds chirp, a fly buzzes by. Somewhere in the distance, Shuuei hears the cadence of a chant; he'd give anything to trade places with that monk.

"Let me speak."

Shuuei's heart sinks. If Koumyou won't even let him apologize, it's worse than he imagined. There's a glass of water on the blotter--Koumyou, despite his reputation as a libertine, chooses water when he's working or when he's involved in decision-making. Shuuei imagines the contents are his life and, as Koumyou lifts the glass to take a sip, Shuuei pictures it upending, the fluid--freed from its container--spilling willy-nilly over Koumyou's books and papers.

If he's sent away, he will surely come apart.

"What happened yesterday ... Shuuei ..." Koumyou takes a sip and replaces the glass. "I could sit before you and list all the reasons why I think you are worthy, why I think you might be right, because it is a reasonable outcome when two men get on as well as we do." There's a quiet pause and Shuuei regroups; the water is safe inside the glass, and he's not going to be banished from Kinzan. He allows himself to breathe while he waits for Koumyou to voice some bland platitude--to say something that emphasizes the differences in their stations.

"But the heart, it doesn't listen to reason, and Ukoku ..." Koumyou's voice trails off. When Shuuei looks up, there's a faraway expression in his eyes. For a moment Shuuei feels sorry for Koumyou, trapped as he is by his responsibilities, while his lover--even the word echoing in Shuuei's mind has a bitter edge--travels footloose and fancy-free, probably bedding half the population he comes across.

"He's not good enough for you," he reiterates impotently.

Koumyou frowns a little. "Perhaps that's not it at all, Shuuei. Perhaps, I'm not good enough for you."

 

Ukoku spins Koumyou roughly and plants a hand between his shoulder blades. There's a rustle of their clothing and then Ukoku voices a triumphant "A-ha!"

"All you needed to do was ask, Ukoku," Koumyou says laconically.

"But where's the fun in that? It's far more enjoyable to go through your pockets."

Koumyou chuckles; he's enjoying himself immensely. Shuuei doesn't like that at all, but it's not upsetting enough to end his eavesdropping. He knows it would be better for him to retreat to the refuge of his room; to bear witness to this debauchery will only confirm what he already knows: he would rather protect his delusions than cause them to wither and die. Instead, he braces his hand on the wall in front of him and continues to watch Koumyou and Ukoku, his growing sense of dread tempered by his arousal, which hasn't flagged. He feels precome leak and slide over the sensitive skin at the tip of his cock. It cools in the evening air, drawing his attention to the need gnawing away at his insides.

Ukoku slips one arm around Koumyou's waist and his hand rubs over Koumyou's groin. Koumyou's hips gyrate into the friction in a wanton display, and his head falls back, his braid gently swaying back and forth. Ukoku's free hand slides the elastic off the end; his fingers tangle through the plait, loosening the strands.

"You'll be fixing that when you're done," Koumyou remarks.

"Whatever," Ukoku says distractedly. He's greedily separating Koumyou's hair, fanning it out across Koumyou's shoulders, letting it spill over his hands and arms. The pale strands catch the starlight and float, feather-light gossamer webs. Koumyou flattens his cheek against the wall; the shadows play over his face, and for a moment it looks like a death-mask. Shuuei blinks several times and when he refocuses, Koumyou has tilted his head up; the macabre image is gone, the only residue the shiver that runs along Shuuei's spine.

Ukoku turns Koumyou around and steals another kiss before lacing the fingers of one hand with Koumyou's.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," he urges in hushed tones, turning and then gently tugging on Koumyou's hand.

"Why?"

The question stops Ukoku cold. He opens his mouth to say something, then just shakes his head and tries again.

"Here? Up against the wall?" There's a sense of wonderment in his voice, like he's just won the lottery. And what a prize Koumyou is!

The older man just nods his head. It's the only invitation Ukoku needs. Shuuei watches as he fumbles with Koumyou's robes, yanking the material apart to expose strong shoulders. Koumyou loosens the breastplate and lets it drop to the ground.

"Such a dirty man, you are," Ukoku purrs when he reveals Koumyou's nakedness underneath his robes. He slicks up his hand quickly and lowers it between their bodies. Koumyou moans softly. He reaches above his head and wraps his hands around a rough-hewn rafter, offering his body to Ukoku.

They fall into a rhythm, Ukoku's tongue tracing over Koumyou's chest, lavishing attention on pert nipples, Koumyou's hips undulating lazily as Ukoku's fingers prepare him. He lifts one leg and rests his foot on a concrete cachebasin, further opening himself.

Shuuei's losing his mind, unable to assimilate the repulsion and utter eroticism. He strokes his cock frantically, feeling the tight coil of his climax slowly unwinding. Ukoku thrusts inside Koumyou violently, pinning him against the wall. Koumyou's legs wrap around his waist, and now he swings with each drive, the building's wall truncating each graceful arc. Their breathing is labored, and the sounds of their lovemaking--sucking, panting, moaning--fills Shuuei's ears.

Ukoku's hand slides between their bodies and he palms Koumyou's dick. The older man's reaction is instantaneous; he throws his head back, crying out his lover's name.

"Fuck! Koumyou!" Ukoku answers, punctuating his response with several great thrusts. Their mutual climax pushes Shuuei over the edge, and his seed spills over his hand, white-hot sparks shooting behind his closed eyelids. His nails dig into the wooden sill as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm. When he opens his eyes and focuses on the pair again, Koumyou is still leaning against the wall, Ukoku tending to his robes, reverently smoothing them down before he reties the obi.

The spell has finally broken. Shuuei straightens his own robes and then turns away hurriedly, before the guilt can fully settle in his gut.

 

"You know we were being watched," Ukoku says around his cigarette as he finishes plaiting Koumyou's hair.

"You didn't think that was for your benefit, did you?" Koumyou takes a sip of sake. They've retired, sated, to his private rooms. He sits on the edge of his bed, comfortably resting between Ukoku's legs.

"Mm, no. I figured as much." Ukoku leans forward, resting his chin on Koumyou's shoulders. "Not that I didn't mind the lesson, either." Koumyou smiles, then dips his shoulder as he turns his head to plant a kiss on Ukoku's cheek.

"Do you think he got the point?"

Koumyou shrugs. "There is no point, Ukoku. He'll either get over his infatuation, or he won't."

"But you aren't averse to helping him get over it."

"I'm less averse to getting him to stop spying on us." Koumyou sighs and leans back. Ukoku's arms loosely fold around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Koumyou! You're such an odd bird! You think that giving him an eyeful is going to stop him?" Ukoku shakes his head, then lowers it again to rest against Koumyou's shoulder. "If you want him to stop, just let me have a conversation with him." His eyes narrow. "Unless, of course, _that's_ the real point."

"I don't need your help in this."

"_Au contraire_. You just enlisted me without asking."

"I think you'd enjoy it a little bit too much."

"Unlike you, who didn't enjoy it at all." Ukoku snickers softly.

Koumyou sighs dramatically. "All in a day's work, Ukoku," he says, smiling. He turns and easily pins Ukoku to the bed. "As it is, I believe I owe you a lesson. Or two."


End file.
